


Proof of Mating

by MoMoMomma



Series: Properties of Life [6]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, Possessive Behavior, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:20:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “No, no,” John shakes his wrist. “You like this. The milk and the stomach and the...everything.”“I might have...maybe...something of a...kink?”





	Proof of Mating

The shower is on by the time he slips into the bedroom, kicking off his boots against the wall. Rook strips on his way, carefully stopping to put his weapon and belt into the safe Jacob had insisted be moved into John’s room, before nudging the door open. He can hear John humming over the rush of the spray, leans a hip into the counter and lets it wash over him.

John does it more often than he knows, hums and whistles little tunes to himself. It’s adorable. Rook’s teased him before, cupped a hand against his cheek and murmured against his mouth, telling him their kid will grow up surrounded by music. John always flushes, smacks at him, but Rook’s glad for it. 

They’re inching closer now. Due date creeping up, under three months away now, closer to birth than conception. Rook’s been keeping an obsessive close eye--as has his Ma in the form of daily calls, texts, and Skype--but it’s all going amazingly. No morning sickness, no edema, no threats at all that any of the doctors can find.

And they’ve looked. John’s going to the doctor’s of Eden’s Gate and they’ve been carefully examining their beloved leader if even he so much as sneezes a bit too hard. 

The humming stops and Rook grinds his teeth, tries to beat back the pleased sounding growl that had been rumbling out of him without notice. 

“Rook? Is that you?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. Sorry, I know I’m a little late, I stopped by to see King after work.”

“Oh? How’s he doing?”

“Other than actively driving Sharky nuts because he refuses to make any decorating decisions? Pretty good.” Rook snorts, leans forward to rap his knuckles against the shower door. “You almost done? Or is there time for me to slip in and join you?”

“Ah, no, I’m just--” The water cuts off, almost suddenly, gentle ringing in Rook’s ears with the abrupt silence. “Finished. Could you go grab me some pajamas?”

“Yeah, much as I want to, pass. You hate everything I pick out for you.”

“No, it’s fine. Anything will do. Maybe something of yours? I know you like it when I wear your clothes.”

“I do.” Rook allows slowly, straightening, watching John’s fidgeting form through the glass. “Are you alright? You sound off.”

Smells a bit off too, if he’s being honest. It had taken a while to get used to the new smell, lingering under John’s lemon-blueberry, fresh and a bit sharp. Took Rook’s nose a bit to adjust until he could once again smell the changing emotions, but he’s got it down pat now. 

And John smells _nervous_ , a sour note in his otherwise fresh scent.

“I’m fine, I just--”

“John. Get out of the shower.”

There’s enough hesitation Rook’s reaching out, intending to rip the damn door off its hinges if it means getting to his Omega, but John steps out with a small sigh. He’s got his towel against his chest, hanging protectively down over the swell of his stomach. Rook tries to drag a breath in, scent the air, scowls when John’s shower products make it impossible to make anything particular out.

“Are you hurt? Is something wrong? Do you feel weak?”

“No, I’m fine.” John insists a little more forcefully, trying to edge past him. “I’m just tired, Rook. Honestly, it’s not anything to worry about.”

“Hey,” Rook catches his arm, tugging him to a stop, heart racing in his chest. “What’s going on? I don’t like this, John. Something’s wrong and you need to tell me what so I can help you.”

He thinks for a moment John won’t. Worries he might actually have to order him, which either goes one of two ways with John. He complies and it ramps him up until he’s climbing Rook like a tree--

Or he starts swinging. Which is definitely the less preferable of the two.

But John just sighs, drops his hand to his side, exposing his chest and stomach. Rook’s hands immediately find the curve of his belly, tracing around it carefully. No obvious wounds, no odd warmth like there’s an infection somewhere. No real reason at all for John to be so worried and tense. 

So why…

“Baby, what’s going on?” Rook asks again, gently, softly, sliding his hands up John’s sides, checking everything he can think of. 

John opens his mouth, cheeks flushed red, but doesn’t get a chance to respond. Not when Rook’s hands slide in, over the very top of the swell, and slick wetness meets his fingertips. He drops his gaze, takes it from John’s face to his chest, and is absolutely struck dumb.

It’s not water. Not an errant drop that had clung to his hair or skin, not wiped away by the towel. No, it’s--

“ _Fuck_ ,” Rook breathes, knees oddly weak, something shifting low in his gut. “You’re leaking, sweetheart. When? When did this happen?”

“Two days ago.” John shifts, uncomfortable under Rook’s laser stare at his chest. “It’s slow and it doesn’t happen all the time. And it’s not much. So I didn’t think to--I didn’t _want_ to mention it.”

“It happens sometimes,” Rook says, voice distant, a curious whooshing in his ears as he watches another drop bead at the tip of one of John’s nipples. “It’s not a bad thing or anything. We can get you a pump or--you don’t need to save it, you’ll make plenty once the baby gets here. But you can. If you want.”

“What I _want_ is to not feel like a cow.” John snaps. “For fuck's sake. None of my clothes fit right because I look like I swallowed a basketball and now I’m ruining what little I _can_ wear because I’m leaking milk.”

Rook blinks, a bit taken aback, before wincing. He should have known, should have been more in tune. John put so much care into his appearance, into all of their appearances. Just because he was happy about the pregnancy didn’t mean he was pleased with all aspects of it.

Still…

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” Rook talks right over John’s scowl and the shake of his head. “No, no, you _are_. Fuck, you’re carrying my child, John, how could I not think you’re the most gorgeous creature on the planet?”

“You’re my mated Alpha. You’re _supposed_ to think I’m beautiful, you pain in the ass.”

“Am I, though?” Rook moves his thumb without thinking, swiping up the drop of milk slowly making its way down John’s chest. “You’re saying I didn’t think this way before? That I didn’t absolutely lose my mind everytime you were around me because you’re so hot it breaks my brain?”

John’s eyes narrow, calculating blue gaze always too smart, always one step ahead. He shifts his weight, reaches out to grasp Rook’s wrist and turn it, considering the small drop still hanging on his thumb.

“Are you...you _like_ this.”

“I like you.” Rook answers a bit hoarsely. “Every part of you.”

“No, no,” John shakes his wrist. “You like _this_. The milk and the stomach and the...everything.”

“I might have...maybe...something of a...kink?”

John _laughs_ , like Rook’s sheepish admission is the funniest thing he’s ever heard. He grins, lightning sharp and just a touch too many teeth, stepping in closer until the swell of his stomach presses gently against Rook. 

“Prove it, then.”

He pushes Rook’s arm towards his face, his intentions clear without given words. Rook shudders slightly, obediently opens his mouth and presses his thumb down onto his waiting tongue the second John lets him go. There isn’t much, just the barest taste of something sweetly soft, but it’s enough to pull a deep-seated growl from his chest.

John, for his part, looks like he just won the lottery.

“Oh, you _do_.” He crows, backing up slowly through the open door into the bedroom, eyes tracking Rook’s instinctive following. “My, my, no wonder you’ve been so pleased to see me put on all this weight. Which is it, Alpha? The milk? The stomach? Pregnancy in general?”

“It’s _you_.” Rook feels like there’s a string connecting them, feet carrying him after John, tongue a bit too big for his mouth. “It’s just--that’s _my_ baby inside you. You’re _my_ mate and I knocked you up, pumped you full until it took.”

“Possessive.” John purrs, settling himself on the edge of the bed, thighs parting as easy as breathing.

Which isn’t very easy, admittedly, at this very moment. Rook can’t quite seem to get a full breath in, watching the way John’s body shifts, the trail of milk slowly sliding down onto the curve of his stomach, the way his cock is thickening under the swell. He sinks to his knees between John’s legs, palms finding either side of his belly, head buried against the center of his chest.

“Can I--I want to.”

“Of course.” John sinks a hand into his hair, something close to amused in his voice. “It’s certainly a better way to deal with this than ruining my shirts.”

He can’t respond, though he probably should. John usually likes their little verbal back and forths, ever the lawyer and ready to banter. But Rook can’t, can’t find the breath for it. Everything moves in slow motion as he shifts, careful, not wanting his prize taken away because he got over-eager and John saw an opportunity to tease.

John makes a soft sort of punched out sound, like all the breath just rushed from his lungs, when Rook seals his mouth around one nipple. His tongue flickers out, brushes before pressing in firm. The taste is better now, not so fleeting, and he feels a growl rumble up from his chest.

“You really do like this.” John murmurs, both hands in his hair now, keeping him in place. “Go on then, Alpha. Take what’s yours.”

There isn’t much. John won’t actually be producing much milk until closer to the due date. But there’s enough that the first gentle pull, the coax of his mouth, gives him a burst of flavor across his tongue. One that has him scooting closer, rolling the milk around in his mouth. It’s almost sweet, thicker than the milk he occasionally drinks out of the carton.

It’s _better_ because it’s from John, from his mate. Because Rook put him on his stomach and mounted up and bred him.

His fingers flex against John’s stomach, tongue lapping, a bit sloppy because he can afford to be right now. He won’t be able to later. Later every single suck and pull of his mouth is going to earn him a full swallow and he’ll have to be more careful.

Now though, John seems pleased, hissing gently with every soft suck and bumping into Rook’s hip with his knee. Rook pulls back slightly, flicks his tongue over the stiff peak of his nipple. John’s face is flushed, eyes glittering when he glances down. 

“Feeling a bit better about your body now?”

“Hmm, you know, I’m not sure.” John’s smile is wicked, evil curved along his mouth. “I think I might just need more...proof of your affections.”

Rook mutters something, joking, poking a bit of fun, but John just rolls his eyes, tugs him over to the other nipple. 

“Your attention has been unfairly focused.”

John’s getting worked up too, shifting as Rook swirls his tongue around the stiff peak before testing his teeth against the very tip. There’s a vicious tug on his hair, just enough to tell him John’s not in the mood for teasing, and he obeys the unspoken command. Latches on and sucks just a little harder, enough to make John whine as his fingers scratch against Rook’s scalp.

“Alpha--”

Rook hums, a questioning note despite the fact he doesn’t know if he can respond. His cock is so hard it hurts, a pulsing ring of pain around the base like his knot wants to swell and catch in thin air. His hands are moving, drawing nonsense sorts of patterns on John’s stomach, digging in slightly to feel the way there’s no give to the flesh.

“I can’t--I need--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rook mutters mindless, lips slick when he draws back, tongue flickering out to catch what remains on them. “I can--scoot back, sweetheart. I’ll do you right.”

“You always do.” 

Well. If that isn’t the best sounding sort of praise. 

It’s getting progressively more difficult for John to be on his back, something both of them realize when John’s halfway down before he frowns, scowls, shifts onto his side. Rook ranges over him, one hand gentle on his shoulderblade, pushing until John’s braced on his knees and forearms. 

“Just like this,” he murmurs, stroking a hand down John’s spine, over the curve of one cheek. “God, you look so fucking good.”

“Heavy-handed with your praise,” John says, an edge in his voice as Rook drags his fingers down, inside, the tips soaking in slick the second he’s close to John’s hole. “Alpha, please.”

“I won’t make you wait.” He can’t, he’s wound too tight, everything too much. He can still taste the syrupy sweet in the back of his mouth, coating his tongue. “Tell me if I--if it’s too rough.”

He is. He knows he is. Knows because the first heavy press of his cock is harsh, a snap of his hips, and John makes a noise low in his throat. The closest an Omega can get to a snarl. But he doesn’t say anything, buries his face in his arms and tips his hips up. 

_Presents_ in the most perfect sort of way and--fuck. Rook’s not going to last very long. 

Which is probably a good thing. He’s thrusting so hard it shakes the mattress, threatens to bang the headboard into the wall. Every single one fucks out a low sounding hitched breath, like John’s trying to moan but can’t even get the air in for it. Rook’s hand is hard on his hip but gentle when he reaches down, cups the swell of his stomach. 

“You look so fucking good like this. All bred up, leaking for me, for our pup. Wanna keep you like this all the time. Fucked full. _Mine_.”

“Rook,” John sobs, fingers catching, clawing at the sheets. “Please, please, I _can’t_.”

He doesn’t need to. Rook presses in deep, so deep his breath catches in his throat, and knots. Swells up and locks them together. There’s a shrill sort of yelp, John caught open, stretched too far too fast, and Rook rumbles soft little calming noises down at him. Slides his palm until he can catch the blood hot swell of John’s cock.

“ _Rook!_ ”

“Shh, I got you. I’ll take care of you.” He strokes, slow and easy, John’s hips jerking on the tie until his breath is hissing out between clenched teeth.

God, he’s already so fucking tight. Clamped down like Rook has any intention of going anywhere. He can’t even imagine what the lock is going to feel like.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let it happen.”

It’s different now, when John comes. No longer the half-gasped, clawing affair it once was. John’s shoulders curl inwards, a shudder shaking his body as he tries and fails to shape his mouth around Rook’s name. There’s a burst of heat across his knuckles and then the rest of the world fails to register. Rook’s distantly aware of a snarl tearing free, something deep and vicious, protective and not aggressive. 

John’s body is so tight he has a moment of fear, terrified he’ll hurt him. But John sags into the bed, hips held up by Rook’s grip so it doesn’t pull, body lax while the lock massages his knot until his vision is going black.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” he says softly, strokes a hand up John’s spine, still holding his hips in close with the other. “Are you--Jesus, are you okay?”

“I think, maybe, you might like how I look when I’m pregnant.” 

It’s enough to make him laugh, leaning over with a slight grunt when the change tugs at his knot, raining kisses over every inch of John’s back he can reach. He drags his fingers along John’s sides, over his stomach, uncaring that he’s probably smearing come on freshly washed skin. Rook’s due for a shower anyhow after work and John typically loves his company.

Especially now when washing his calves and feet are becoming a problem.

“So...is it the milk? The swell?” John asks, almost conversationally if not for the wicked bite in his tone.

“It’s _you_.” Rook sighs against his nape. “Just...you. Mine in the most obvious way. All mated up and pregnant.”

“So I suppose I should start waking you when I leak in the middle of the night as opposed to trying to climb out of bed and succeeding only in irritating Jacob?”

Rook thinks about it, thinks about John shaking him awake, the sweet smell of milk already in the air. Thinks about lazily suckling, maybe jerking John off in the meanwhile. About falling back asleep with the taste on his tongue.

He shakes hard enough John laughs, hips jerking forwards like he can do anything until the tie goes down. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Don’t act so proud.” Rook murmurs into his shoulder, against the scarring of his mating mark. “I always say yes to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy end of Kinktober! I figured why not go out with a bang and write the pregnant!John a lot of people wanted to see in the Oblivion!Verse. Thank you guys so much for all your love and support over this month <3 If you had ideas for continuations on any of the fics or wanted to chat about Far Cry, come see me over on my [Tumblr!](https://momomomma2.tumblr.com)


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